DOI Heft:
June 16, 1883
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17754#0283
June 18, 1883.]
PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
277
CANDOUR.
Pastor [who was preparing his Pupils for Confirmation). “Now, my Boy, tell
ME, WHO IS YOUR SPIRITUAL AND GHOSTLY ENEMY?”
Pupil [after painful hesitation). “Please, Sir, you are, Sir!"
A HANDBOOK OP KNOWLEDGE.
No. X.—The Hairdresser (continued from p. 227).
Q. Will you describe some of the tortures and indignities experienced F
A. First there is the Ordeal of the Shroud.
Q. What is that ?
A. A huge swathing of. white linen or cotton print. It is “whipped”
around you with a twirl which fills your eyes and nose with irritating snippets
of _ hair. It is vigorously “tucked in,” at the back of your neck inside your
shirt-collar. It compresses your throat till your face reddens and your nose
itches. You cannot rub it with your hands, because they are confined. If you
fumblingly attempt to chafe it through the shroud, you get more bits of hair
into your mouth and nostrils. You sneeze violently, youi- helplessness is
manifest, your degradation complete. You gaze at your reflection in the
mirror in front of you. A shining sheepish face, hair spiked ludicrously on
end like a burlesque scalp-lock, a head helplessly punched £nd turned, and
kneaded hither and thither, as though it were potter’s clay, or an “universal
joint,” now cranked to the right, now crooked to the left, now with chin hoisted
in the air, now with nose buried in your shirt-front! You avert your glance ;
you feel that resolution, and judgment, and self-respect are yours no more
for ever.
Q. Is not the worst now over F
,, A- ?y no means. Having reduced you to the weakness of self-contempt,
the Hairdresser seizes his desired opportunity.
Q. To do what F A. To patter and tout.
Q. What are these processes F
A. To patter is to prate aimlessly, unintelligently. obtrusively about the
topics of the time and the state of the weather. Patter has two chief forms :—
1. Emphatic assertion of the obvious.
2. Yague questioning concerning the trivial.
lor example, your tormentor, stooping with an oily smirk, will whisper,
odorously, into your ear—which he looks, as reflected in the glass, as though
he were about to bite—confident assertions that It is a ’ot mornin’, Sir, that the
days are a-gettin’ hout nicely, that there’s lots o’ people about to-day, ain’t
tnere F that we shall be ’avin’ some failin’ weather before we’ve done with
it (he doesn’t say done with what), that we must be lookin’ forward to the
winter now, and that we shall ’ave Crismus (he always
calls it Crismus) upon us before we know where we
har. Or he will ask you—as though you were a Meteoro-
logical Office, or a Political Oracle—wot sort of a day
you think we shall ’ave to-morrer ; are we going to get a
bit o’ summer this year F Wot you think of these ’ere
Salvation Army chaps. Whether they ’re a-goin’ to
“ketch” that there “No. 1” after all, and wot’s to
be Mr. Gladsting’s next little game. The helpless
auditor of this sort of thing is either reduced to abject
imbecility, or roused to boiling wrath. Happy is he upon
whom it only produces the former effect.
Q. What next F A. Patter is only preliminary to puff;
talking leads up—through personal rudeness—to touting.
Q. Explain this.
A. The Hairdresser pointedly calls your attention to
your personal defects or disfigurements, with a view to
puff and push off upon you the high-priced mucks and
messes which he proudly refers to as “ hour Spesshallitys,
Sir! ” Patter is exasperating, but Touting is little short
of criminal. It begins in rudeness to end—if you permit
it—in extortion.
Q. Is it not permissible for a Hairdresser, like any
other person, to push the sale of his wares in a respectful
and legitimate way P
A. Certainly. But the Hairdresser pushes them in a
fashion that is not respectful and is not legitimate.
Q. How is that P
A. In the first place, from your helpless position as
subject of his craft, he has you at an unfair advantage.
You cannot get away from his oily fingers, his greasy
whispers, his fatuous cackle, his personal criticisms, his
unblushing puffs. If he tells you in a tone of confident
candour, that your hair is “offly dry,” “going off
colour,” or “ gettin’ terrible thin a-top,” the imperti-
nence which in another case would earn kicks from your
boots is regarded in his as a natural means of extorting
halfpence from your pockets. If he assures you that his
wretched unguents and stimulants and dyes will repair
the ravages of time, the brazen and dishonest falsehood
with which he insults your intelligence and assaults
your purse is not recognised or resented as a fraudulent
attempt at “obtaining money under false pretences,”
but as being “ all in the way of business.”
Q. Is the Hairdresser’s system more unfair and offen-
sive than that of many other trades F
A. It is ; for several reasons :—
1. His facilities for impertinence and importunity
are, from the necessity of the case, exceptional.
2. His mode of puffing his nasty nostrums is par-
ticularly unpleasant and unscrupulous.
3. The nasty nostrums themselves are peculiarly
worthless and deleterious.
Q. Can you suggest any amelioration of the unplea-
sant state of things which you describe F
A. Art may perhaps, some day, devise something which
will make us independent of the manual manipulations
of the degenerate modern Figaro. Pending that most
desirable consummation, the annoyances actually attend-
ing the necessarily unpleasant operation of shearing and
shaving might be indefinitely diminished. The Hair-
dresser should be strictly, if need be legally, limited to
the deft exercise of his legitimate functions. You wish
him to cut your hair or shave your beard. You do not
wish him to discuss politics with you. More emphati-
cally still, you do not wish him to puff and push his
particular wares.* Were patter rigorously limited, and
touting inexorably prohibited, hair-cutting need not bes
what at present it is, the most agonising and exacer-
bating of social ordeals.
* There are a few brilliantine exceptions to the rule, but
where they are to be found must remain a secret known only to
the initiated few.—Headitorial Note by the Author of the Hair
and Many Friends.
An Anson Apology.—When Mr. Weakly Collins’s
ill-constructed and badly-written Play was steadily
laughed at, scene by scene, last Saturday night, Mr.
An son told the audience that they ought to pay respect-
ful attention to the piece because it was the work of “ a
great Novelist.” Funny argument. The Great Novelist
had better remember Ne Sutor, &c. (no connection with
R. Soutar of the Gaiety), and if he can’t write a better
play, let this be his last. It was capitally acted. But
who is responsible for choosing it ?
PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
277
CANDOUR.
Pastor [who was preparing his Pupils for Confirmation). “Now, my Boy, tell
ME, WHO IS YOUR SPIRITUAL AND GHOSTLY ENEMY?”
Pupil [after painful hesitation). “Please, Sir, you are, Sir!"
A HANDBOOK OP KNOWLEDGE.
No. X.—The Hairdresser (continued from p. 227).
Q. Will you describe some of the tortures and indignities experienced F
A. First there is the Ordeal of the Shroud.
Q. What is that ?
A. A huge swathing of. white linen or cotton print. It is “whipped”
around you with a twirl which fills your eyes and nose with irritating snippets
of _ hair. It is vigorously “tucked in,” at the back of your neck inside your
shirt-collar. It compresses your throat till your face reddens and your nose
itches. You cannot rub it with your hands, because they are confined. If you
fumblingly attempt to chafe it through the shroud, you get more bits of hair
into your mouth and nostrils. You sneeze violently, youi- helplessness is
manifest, your degradation complete. You gaze at your reflection in the
mirror in front of you. A shining sheepish face, hair spiked ludicrously on
end like a burlesque scalp-lock, a head helplessly punched £nd turned, and
kneaded hither and thither, as though it were potter’s clay, or an “universal
joint,” now cranked to the right, now crooked to the left, now with chin hoisted
in the air, now with nose buried in your shirt-front! You avert your glance ;
you feel that resolution, and judgment, and self-respect are yours no more
for ever.
Q. Is not the worst now over F
,, A- ?y no means. Having reduced you to the weakness of self-contempt,
the Hairdresser seizes his desired opportunity.
Q. To do what F A. To patter and tout.
Q. What are these processes F
A. To patter is to prate aimlessly, unintelligently. obtrusively about the
topics of the time and the state of the weather. Patter has two chief forms :—
1. Emphatic assertion of the obvious.
2. Yague questioning concerning the trivial.
lor example, your tormentor, stooping with an oily smirk, will whisper,
odorously, into your ear—which he looks, as reflected in the glass, as though
he were about to bite—confident assertions that It is a ’ot mornin’, Sir, that the
days are a-gettin’ hout nicely, that there’s lots o’ people about to-day, ain’t
tnere F that we shall be ’avin’ some failin’ weather before we’ve done with
it (he doesn’t say done with what), that we must be lookin’ forward to the
winter now, and that we shall ’ave Crismus (he always
calls it Crismus) upon us before we know where we
har. Or he will ask you—as though you were a Meteoro-
logical Office, or a Political Oracle—wot sort of a day
you think we shall ’ave to-morrer ; are we going to get a
bit o’ summer this year F Wot you think of these ’ere
Salvation Army chaps. Whether they ’re a-goin’ to
“ketch” that there “No. 1” after all, and wot’s to
be Mr. Gladsting’s next little game. The helpless
auditor of this sort of thing is either reduced to abject
imbecility, or roused to boiling wrath. Happy is he upon
whom it only produces the former effect.
Q. What next F A. Patter is only preliminary to puff;
talking leads up—through personal rudeness—to touting.
Q. Explain this.
A. The Hairdresser pointedly calls your attention to
your personal defects or disfigurements, with a view to
puff and push off upon you the high-priced mucks and
messes which he proudly refers to as “ hour Spesshallitys,
Sir! ” Patter is exasperating, but Touting is little short
of criminal. It begins in rudeness to end—if you permit
it—in extortion.
Q. Is it not permissible for a Hairdresser, like any
other person, to push the sale of his wares in a respectful
and legitimate way P
A. Certainly. But the Hairdresser pushes them in a
fashion that is not respectful and is not legitimate.
Q. How is that P
A. In the first place, from your helpless position as
subject of his craft, he has you at an unfair advantage.
You cannot get away from his oily fingers, his greasy
whispers, his fatuous cackle, his personal criticisms, his
unblushing puffs. If he tells you in a tone of confident
candour, that your hair is “offly dry,” “going off
colour,” or “ gettin’ terrible thin a-top,” the imperti-
nence which in another case would earn kicks from your
boots is regarded in his as a natural means of extorting
halfpence from your pockets. If he assures you that his
wretched unguents and stimulants and dyes will repair
the ravages of time, the brazen and dishonest falsehood
with which he insults your intelligence and assaults
your purse is not recognised or resented as a fraudulent
attempt at “obtaining money under false pretences,”
but as being “ all in the way of business.”
Q. Is the Hairdresser’s system more unfair and offen-
sive than that of many other trades F
A. It is ; for several reasons :—
1. His facilities for impertinence and importunity
are, from the necessity of the case, exceptional.
2. His mode of puffing his nasty nostrums is par-
ticularly unpleasant and unscrupulous.
3. The nasty nostrums themselves are peculiarly
worthless and deleterious.
Q. Can you suggest any amelioration of the unplea-
sant state of things which you describe F
A. Art may perhaps, some day, devise something which
will make us independent of the manual manipulations
of the degenerate modern Figaro. Pending that most
desirable consummation, the annoyances actually attend-
ing the necessarily unpleasant operation of shearing and
shaving might be indefinitely diminished. The Hair-
dresser should be strictly, if need be legally, limited to
the deft exercise of his legitimate functions. You wish
him to cut your hair or shave your beard. You do not
wish him to discuss politics with you. More emphati-
cally still, you do not wish him to puff and push his
particular wares.* Were patter rigorously limited, and
touting inexorably prohibited, hair-cutting need not bes
what at present it is, the most agonising and exacer-
bating of social ordeals.
* There are a few brilliantine exceptions to the rule, but
where they are to be found must remain a secret known only to
the initiated few.—Headitorial Note by the Author of the Hair
and Many Friends.
An Anson Apology.—When Mr. Weakly Collins’s
ill-constructed and badly-written Play was steadily
laughed at, scene by scene, last Saturday night, Mr.
An son told the audience that they ought to pay respect-
ful attention to the piece because it was the work of “ a
great Novelist.” Funny argument. The Great Novelist
had better remember Ne Sutor, &c. (no connection with
R. Soutar of the Gaiety), and if he can’t write a better
play, let this be his last. It was capitally acted. But
who is responsible for choosing it ?